


Defiance in Viewfinder

by charis2770



Series: Finding Vengeance...or is it Something Else? [4]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Anal Sex, Asami does NOT approve, Caning, Crying, D/s themes, Extreme S/m scene, Feilong throws a temper tantrum, M/M, Rough Sex, Slash, Spanking, The Secret Room!, Violence instead of a nice peaceful lunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charis2770/pseuds/charis2770
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things go beautifully for the first day and a half. Feilong is a pain slut and a terrible brat. Asami is a very happy crime lord, until Feilong suddenly blows a gasket and lashes out at him in rage. They beat the crap out of each other, and once Asami gains the upper hand, he decides that only extreme punishment will truly break through Feilong's defenses and begin to gain his trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Defiance in Viewfinder

**Author's Note:**

> As I explained in the notes last chapter, I believe it's entirely accurate to portray Feilong as a submissive. It's so obvious to me that it's what he really wants that I don't even feel a little bit bad for hurting him this much. He needs it. I have no illusions that he'll stay compliant. He's too screwed up and too used to calling the shots, so just accepting his heart's desire couldn't possibly be easy. The place his head is at the end of this chapter is unlikely to last indefinitely. Or possibly even until tomorrow.
> 
> The caning scene in this chapter is pretty extreme. Nobody should inflict this level of pain on their partner unless it's been carefully negotiated. Some people are actually just as into pain as Feilong is, but nobody should take it for granted that someone would get off on treatment like this. Real people aren't manga characters!

Punishing Liu Feilong becomes Asami’s favorite hobby in exactly nine hours. The effort of laying the strap into his delicious ass the first time had sung through his blood like the world’s finest wine. Feilong’s response to discipline is exquisite. He is probably always going to be difficult. So damaged, so deadly, so petulant and sullen. So fucking beautiful. But the moment he is bent over, or lying on his stomach with his ass bared, Feilong becomes as easy as drawing breath. Pliant, obedient, submissive. It makes his mouth water. The agonized tension of all that gorgeous muscle is fantastic. The way Feilong gasps and whimpers and raises his hips like he’s begging for it, his pretty cock hard as the alabaster it resembles, make Asami want to be inside him, hard and deep and rough. He’d been awakened the morning following his claiming of the Baishe as his own by a muffled sound and come to awareness to find Takaba pinned to the bed by Feilong’s absurdly strong hands while Feilong busied himself tormenting Aki’s cock with his mouth and particularly his teeth.

“S…stop,” his Takaba had been gasping. “Not so hard, Feilong. Damn it, that hur…OW!”

“Feilong,” he’d asked conversationally, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Playing,” Feilong had purred lasciviously, not stopping at all.

“Have you got permission to play with him like that?” Asami had wondered softly, the danger in his voice patently obvious, making sure the bed sheet was covering the evidence of how much the sight had aroused him.

“Not even a little bit of permission, Asami-sama,” Feilong had hissed, and nipped Takaba sharply.

“Apparently I didn’t beat you hard enough last night,” he had commented. Feilong had rolled his eyes up at Asami and grinned slow and dirty around the tip of Aki’s cock.

“Apparently,” he’d smirked, “not.”

His open palm smacking down hard on the still-a-little-reddened skin of the gangster’s bare ass had felt obscenely good to him, as had the way Feilong’s body had stiffened and then just gone completely pliant as the fantastically beautiful creature had moaned. He’d spanked him hard and fast and until, honestly, his arm was getting a little bit tired and Feilong was sobbing a little and then fucked him hard while Takaba kissed Asami like he couldn’t get enough and Asami slowly jerked the boy off until he came helplessly on the clean cotton sheets and so had the delicious creature underneath him and that had been all it took for Asami to follow them, wondering a little dazedly what he’d done to deserve two such amazing little treats in his bed.

At breakfast, Feilong had crossed his arms and imperiously informed Asami that he had another think coming if he thought Feilong was going to eat THAT. Feilong hadn’t liked the wooden spoon on the backs of his legs very much at all, but he had responded beautifully to it.

It takes him about 24 hours to realize he may have seriously underestimated just how bad Feilong thinks he’s been over the past seven years and feels compelled to act horrible to get Asami to punish him for it.

It all comes to a head the following day. He casually asks Feilong for his hotel room number so that he can have his things delivered to the penthouse. It isn’t that he intends to be high-handed about it, it’s just that he’s a man accustomed to make things happen, and he can’t see any logical reason for Feilong to stay in a hotel, no matter how luxurious, when he hasn’t been back to it for going on two days. Feilong’s security detail is even already staying in Asami’s building, on a lower floor, but within reach of their employer should he need them, and able to check on him and make sure he is well. At his question, Feilong’s head comes up and his black eyes blaze at Asami.

“You don’t own me, Asami, and I won’t be your lapdog. I can manage my own things, thanks.”

“Watch your attitude, Feilong. I’m only trying to make things easier for you. This is my town. I know the hotel manager, and it’s stupid for you to keep your things there when the rest of you is here,” says Asami, keeping his voice reasonable although he’d sort of like to slap the little brat. “And if I’d wanted a lapdog, I’d have gone to a pet store and bought one. Calm down.”

“Oh, that’s right,” hisses Feilong maliciously, “the almighty Ryuichi Asami speaks and the world jumps to do his bidding. Fuck you, Asami.” And he jumps up from the table where the three of them had been peacefully having lunch just a minute before, fists clenched, twin spots of color flushing his cheeks.

“Sit down, Feilong,” says Asami calmly, taking a sip of his tea, “or you’re not going to like what happens.”

“Come on, Feilong,” says Takaba coaxingly. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Nobody asked you to butt in, you stupid little whore,” snarls Feilong, and that pretty much wraps things up for a peaceful resolution. Takaba looks shocked and hurt. Asami stands up, doing his best to throttle back his rage.

“Apologize,” he growls softy. “Now.”

“Fuck. You.” Spits Feilong, and his fist shoots out and snaps Asami’s head back. He bites his tongue and the copper tang of blood in his mouth is like an electric current. He wipes away the smear of it from his lips with the back of his hand, staring at Feilong, and licks away what’s left. Feilong sneers at him, but he notices the man’s eyes are also riveted to Asami’s mouth.

“Last chance, Feilong,” he says softly.

“Go to hell. I’m leaving,” replies Feilong hotly, and whirls melodramatically to sweep out of the dining room, his hair and tunic flaring. Asami reaches out and catches his arm, using the other man’s momentum to keep him spinning until he winds up with his back against Asami, the yakuza’s arms pinning him in place.

“Wrong answer,” whispers Asami into Feilong’s ear. Feilong shudders at the feel of warm breath in his ear, and his breath hitches in something like a sob, but he stomps hard on Asami’s foot and slams his head backwards, forcing Asami to loosen his hold a little in order to avoid a broken nose. Feilong twists like a damned eel and spins, executing a beautiful roundhouse kick that connects with Asami’s shoulder and numbs his arm. Asami, thankfully, is deadly with both hands. The fight isn’t long, but it’s vicious, and ends with both of them bleeding and panting and furious. It also ends with Feilong slammed hard against the wall and Asami’s forearm pressed hard against his throat, red-faced and struggling to breathe.

“Are you quite finished?” snarls Asami. He eases back enough for Feilong to reply (well, and to breathe…it’s not as if he actually wants the horrible creature to die. Probably.).

“Let me go,” cries Feilong bleakly, and the tone in his voice is heartbreaking. “You’re going to anyway. Asami, this is never going to work. Just let me go, while I can still walk away.” His eyes are devastated and blind with pain, shining with tears he will not shed. Asami feels the heart he tries not to allow to rule his actions clench in his chest. He’s never seen such pain on another person’s face. Never. A huge part of him wants to sit down and take Feilong in his lap and cuddle him and make him feel better. The smarter part of him knows this would never work for the tormented, complicated man before him. Instead, he leans in close, golden eyes fierce and cold.

“What part of ‘mine’ did you not understand, Feilong?” he hisses into the Chinese’s ear. “Nobody ever said this was going to be easy, but I’d never have taken you for a coward. If I have to beat it into your wretched hide every day for the next ten years, I’ll make you understand me. You horrible little brat. The absolute shit of your life only cuts you so much slack. I will NOT let you go, Feilong. But you don’t get to hurt Takaba’s feeling because you’re insecure, and you don’t get to raise your hand to me because you think forcing me to kick you out is going to justify your misguided sense of abandonment.”

“I’m not a coward,” says Feilong petulantly.

“Really?” asks Asami, raising an eyebrow. “Takaba-kun?”

“What?” asks Aki, his voice sounding a little frightened.

“Go and press the button for me, like a good boy, will you please? You know the one I mean?”

“Yes, Asami,” says Akihito, and he doesn’t sound frightened anymore. He sounds positively gleeful. He jumps up from the table and rushes out of the room. Moments later, Asami feels the faint vibration in the floor that signifies the opening of the hidden door to his secret room.

“Wh…what’s that?” asks Feilong, who is starting to look pretty nervous.

“Scared?” whispers Asami, leaning in to nip Feilong’s ear and then soothing the sting with his tongue.

“No!”

“Prove it,” he challenges, then removes his arm from Feilong’s throat and snags a handful of his long, blue-black hair. Purposefully, he drags Feilong through the penthouse to the opening in the wall where Aki stands looking smug. He smiles at the boy gently.

“Aki,” he says kindly. “You may watch or go and finish your lunch. It is your choice. This…is not going to be pretty. Our Feilong requires a great deal of suffering to convince him I am sincere, so I’m going to give it to him.”

“You wouldn’t shut me out?” says Takaba, looking a little surprised.

“Whatever this is, Aki, that we’re doing, is going to be complicated enough without any of us adding to it. A fact I intend to prove to Feilong shortly. Of course I will not shut you out. He’ll not replace you, any more than you’ll take precedence over him. I do hope you’re listening, Feilong,” he comments to the top of Feilong’s head where his grip on the younger man’s hair holds him awkwardly bent forwards at the waist.

“I think I’ll…leave you to it, Asami. It’s not that I don’t want to…because I really kind of do. It’s…I want him to be able to look me in the eye, later. Okay?”

Asami beckons with the index finger of his free hand and Takaba steps closer. Asami leans down and kisses him.

“Such a good boy,” he murmurs against Aki’s lips. Akihito laughs softly.

“Don’t get used to it,” he says with a grin. “I just think you happen to have your hands full with that one right now, so I’m cutting you some slack.”

“You spoil me,” murmurs Asami, chuckling, and drags Feilong into his playroom, shutting the heavy door behind them. He really hopes it sounds like the gates of doom slamming shut to Feilong, because that’s a pretty good description.

He wraps Feilong’s hair around his fist and wrenches the younger man painfully to his knees.

“Are you paying attention, Feilong?” he asks furiously. Feilong darts those black eyes up at his face and then looks down at the floor.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“What was it you hoped to prove by that little display, you wretch?”

The eyes cut back up and they are just as bleak as before. Asami wants to kiss the hurt out of Feilong’s eyes, but….not quite as much as he wants to replace it with pain. And there’s a big difference, one with which Feilong is shortly to become closely acquainted.

“Don’t toy with me, Asami,” whispers Feilong. “You’re not going to keep me. Not after everything…”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” snarls Asami, “before you say something you’ll regret even more than the bullshit you’ve already said. I told you I wasn’t letting you go, you idiot. Did you think you were the only one here who had been thinking about this for seven fucking years? Think. Again. I’ll send you away when I’m cold in the ground, Feilong…or when you ask me to let you and mean it. Did you forget when I said I wasn’t your papa, Feilong? Or did you not stop to think what that meant?”

“I…what?” stammers Feilong, confused.

“Foolish boy. I didn’t mean I wasn’t going to keep you or care for you or punish you. I’m going to do the thing your papa never did, Feilong, and that’s why I won’t let you think about me that way. Do you know what it is?”

“No,” mutters Feilong sullenly.

“I’m going to fucking STAY.” Asami leans down close to Feilong’s head when he speaks, and he shouts the last words into Feilong’s ear while he yanks on the Baishe’s hair so hard it makes his eyes water. When his mouth smashes down on Feilong’s, the young man sobs into his mouth once, and then kisses him back like he’s starving.

It’s easy to strip and then strap Feilong into place, face down, arms securely tied behind his back, ass in the air, legs spread obscenely wide, atop the heavy padded bench across the room. Feilong’s breathing is fast and thready, almost panicky, but Asami doesn’t care. Feilong doesn’t ask him to stop, doesn’t beg for mercy, and that’s good, because Asami’s not in the mood to give it to him.

“How many times and how hard do I have to punish you before you believe me, Feilong?” he asks softly, walking to one of the many drawers in the wall, and withdrawing his selection.

“I don’t know,” breathes Feilong.

“Let’s see if we can find out,” he purrs, and walks in front of Feilong so he can see what Asami has in his hand. Feilong gasps a little, and his parted lips, red and swollen from where Asami had backhanded him during their fight, are exquisite. Asami runs his fingers down the length of the cane, flexing it gently. It is three and a half feet of pure hell. Gleaming, flexible rattan with a rounded tip and a grip wrapped in leather so it won’t slip, it is not quite as thick as Asami’s smallest finger. He’d never dream of using such a thing on his sweet Takaba. It’s much too vicious a tool, meant for pain and not play. Even the thought of bringing it down across Aki’s tender ass makes him feel a little queasy. It would break something inside the boy to be treated with that kind of cruelty. It’s exactly what Feilong needs. He wonders what kind of a bastard it makes him that his cock is already hard, thinking about it.

He strolls back around Feilong until he’s behind him, and strokes the length of the cane down his fantastic ass.

“Brace yourself,” he says maliciously, “this is REALLY going to hurt.”

It takes finesse to cane a person effectively. It’s not about just flailing away at their flesh. That’s uncivilized. He thinks about the man who gave him all of the things in this room, and the lessons in their use he gave Asami. Asami is familiar with how each and every one of them feels. Intimately. Caning is all in the elbow and the wrist, in the smooth crook of his arm, in snapping the wrist at exactly the right moment so that the length of the cane digs sharply and _evenly_ into flesh, not deeper at the tip, leaving a perfect welt across both cheeks that goes momentarily white and then rises up almost immediately into a perfect tramline of a welt, twin tracks indented in the center where the rattan bites deep. Feilong is trembling after the first stroke. Asami had considered gagging him, but he really wants to find out if he can make Feilong scream. It turns out that he can, but it isn’t easy. Feilong is covered with cruel welts from the top of his ass almost down to his knees, the discoloration of bruises already forming. For a disturbingly long time, all Feilong does is gasp and shudder and flinch. Asami knows he’s crying, but he does so in silence, shaking, but not making a sound. He finds that his hand is also shaking, watching Feilong’s agony, the torment the young man is putting himself through, longing to make the pain stop. But he will do Feilong no favors if he shows him mercy now. He grits his teeth and canes him harder. Finally, just when Asami wonders if Feilong will allow him to do permanent injury, Feilong breaks. It is, frankly, both beautiful and terrifying. A plaintive howl wrenches from Feilong’s body with a tearing sound that lances straight to Asami’s heart, though he will never tell Feilong so. He drops the cane to the floor with a rattle and pulls Feilong roughly onto his lap as he sits on the table. Feilong sobs against his chest, ragged, miserable cries that seem much too enormous for his slender body to contain. Feilong is powerful, strong and lovely and fierce, but the sorrow in his crying is terrible, and Asami cannot help but hang onto him as tightly as he can. He’s glad Takaba decided not to watch, because he knows as well as he knows his own name that Feilong would rather die than have anyone see him like this. Anyone, apparently, besides Asami. Asami has a strong stomach and has done many terrible things in his life, but the thought of Feilong biting through his own tongue rather than allow Akihito to see him wrecked makes him feel a little bit appalled. Takaba is more perceptive than he’s given credit for sometimes. Feilong cries as though his heart is breaking, but after a few minutes, this changes somehow. The pain in his voice is less, the sound somehow cleaner and more pure, and he turns in Asami’s lap and is suddenly kissing him, the salt of his tears on his lips and Asami’s tongue. A bolt of lust spears through Asami’s gut like he’s been shot, and he groans softly into Feilong’s mouth.

“Asami,” whimpers Feilong, his voice so lost and hopeful that Asami kisses him even harder, “Asami-s…sensei,” he breathes, and Asami’s eyes roll back in his head and he shudders, the title so perfect, so magnificent, on Feilong’s pretty mouth that he is stunned speechless. “Take me,” whispers Feilong. “Use me. Own me. Oh sensei, _fuck_ me.”

Speechless or not, Asami’s body knows exactly what it wants. He shoves two fingers into Feilong’s mouth, muttering at him to suck, while he reaches between them to unfasten his trousers and free his cock. He presses the spit slicked fingers into Feilong’s tight little hole roughly, and Feilong cries out against his mouth, pain and eagerness warring for supremacy in the sound. He’s too fast and too rough stretching the other man open, and he knows it, but Feilong whines and arches into his fingers as he scissors them apart hard enough to burn, whispering in Chinese. Asami only knows enough Mandarin to get by, but it’s enough to get the gist of, “yes, please, do it, now, harder, hurt me,” and most exquisite of all, “Master!” He lifts Feilong by his hips and lines himself up, and hardly has to press down to encourage Feilong, who ruthlessly impales himself on Asami’s painfully hard cock, panting and sobbing and whimpering in pain and need. Asami grasps Feilong’s perfect ass in both hands and lifts again, rolling his hips up and into the other man’s clenching hole. Feilong is hot and tight, almost too tight, and Asami knows it hurts him, and is unable to care that it may  make him a monster that he wants to devour Feilong’s small cries of hurt and drink his tears like fine wine and still give him more. There is wetness on his fingertips where they curl inside the crevice of his lover’s ass, brushing the quivering, agonized ring of flesh where his cock thrusts into Feilong’s body, and he knows that it is blood, but Feilong doesn’t seem to care.

“Cry for me, Feilong,” he whispers against the trembling lips, his tongue darting out to lick the salt from his face. “Cry, because I wish it, and you are beautiful in your pain.”

“Yes, sensei,” whimpers Feilong, then groans and shudders when Asami’s cock hits that perfect spot inside him.

“You’re mine, Feilong,” growls the billionaire ferociously. “Do you hear me?”

“Yesssss,” moans the Baishe raggedly, his head thrown back, his hips forcing him down onto Asami brutally, his arm muscles straining against the leather straps binding them behind his back. Asami reaches between them and fists Feilong’s cock tightly, stroking slowly up and down, feeling that muscled silk of his new boy’s lovely prick sliding through his fist. Feilong clenches, and his hole clamps onto Asami like a vice.

“Mine, Feilong,” he swears hotly against Feilong’s throat, his teeth scraping the skin which is damp with sweat and tears. “Mine, and I’m keeping you. Mine, Feilong, and I’ll remind you every day until you believe it. Hear it Feilong. Mine. Come for me, come now, Feilong. Now.”

Feilong’s cry as Asami’s voice wrenches his release from his straining body is inhuman. The ripple and flutter of his ass around Asami’s cock is too perfect to bear, so tight and soft and warm,  and Asami bites Feilong’s throat deeply, snarling between his teeth as he joins him in release, shuddering and digging his fingers into Feilong’s ass hard enough to bruise. Feilong collapses against him as though he’s been shot, and Asami puts his arms around the other man’s body to hold him safely. His mind is racing with the implication of what Feilong has said. Sensei. Feilong’s Japanese is perfect, he cannot claim cultural ignorance. Admitting that Asami is Master is something he honestly doesn’t know if Takaba will ever be able to do. The boy’s struggles against Asami’s possession of him are charming, and part of why Asami values him so. Too many men have fawned at his feet and called him Sensei when they did not mean it. He’s beyond startled that Feilong uses the title, feels a little poleaxed that this complicated, defiant, self-contained man would come to this place so long before Takaba. Or at all. His cards his fingers through Feilong’s hair as he cries softy against his shoulder, and realizes that perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised after all. Unlike Takaba, Feilong has known what he wants all along. He’s just believed it impossible to have, because his enemies would take it as a show of weakness, as would most of his own people. Feilong has suffered in a prison of his own making for years, and yet has also held his own key. Asami has simply given him a reason to use it. He vows to himself that he will not make Feilong sorry for it. His mind already ponders ways he can explain Feilong’s presence in his home and bed in such a way that will make the Chinese believe Feilong has conquered Asami, rather than the other way around. His willingness to do so surprises him a little, but the value of what Feilong calls him is beyond price, and he finds that neither pride nor street cred mean more to him than this. Those who truly matter will never question what is happening between them, and the cost to him personally will be meaningless compared to that pain-filled voice, choked with tears and suffering and gratitude, lips trembling against his own, as Feilong called him Master.


End file.
